More fitba'

Refugee from The Beverly Hill-Billies

Asian Cup 2015.  Game 2 of my 9, United Arab Emirates versus Qatar.  Smaller crowd than yesterday but at just over 5,500 more than I expected after yesterday's rain.  There was no need for the emergency poncho today but looking at the photo of me here maybe it would have been an idea to cover up my complete lack of fashion sense or style.

The game was lively, there were five goals and the UAE ran out deserving winners by 4 goals to 1.  I'll be seeing them again on Thursday, playing against Bahrain.  Enjoying my Asian Cup so far.  And hugely indebted to Spike for keeping me company and taking on role of 'official match photographer'.

Drenched

So, it's the first of my nine games at the Asian Cup 2015.  South Korea versus Oman at the Canberra Stadium.

Another football selfie for Spike to treasure

As we drove towards north Canberra from Gilmore the sky darkened and grew more angry looking in that bruised manner which only an immanent thunderstorm can create.  As we arrived in the "VIP / Accessible Parking" area (full marks to someone for the choice of 'accessible' rather than the more usual 'disabled') the sky above opened to drop a month's worth of rain on everyone.  We were dry at that stage (not yet parked, still in the car) but the volunteers helping to direct us to the parking bay closest to the entrance were soaked to the skin.  It didn't take long for us to match them.  But we all seemed happy enough; to be there part of Australia's biggest football party ever. 

The game was good, enjoyable if you really like football and aren't too fussed that goals can be a rarity.  South Korea were in charge off the game pretty much throughout and deserved their win but Oman gave them a game of it and produced a few scares for the wacky, marvellous Korean fans who made up a very substantial part of the 12,552 members of the crowd.  We all went home wet but happy.

Heid the ba'

Kuwait v Australia 2011

My tragic footall fan is coming out to play again.  The Asian Cup kicks off (pun intended) tonight in Melbourne with Australia playing Kuwait in the competition opening match.  My first match is tomorrow.

Sports blogger Kate Cohen has an article in the Guardian today.  The article is headed "Asian Cup final four the minimum expectation for Socceroos".  I beg to deffer and wrote the thoughts below in the article's comments section.  (Not just a football tragic but a Guardian Comments tragic too.) 

FIFA Rankings are about as reliable as the bidding process to host the World Cup. Australia ranked 100 tells us nothing.

I think football is an infuriatingly, beautifully simple game. Score more goals than the other guys and you win. Forget that and you're toast.

I have my tickets for the 6 group games in Canberra (I shall cheer loudest for the team from Palestine but I don't really mind who wins here). And I have my tickets for the quarters, semi and final. They are a different kettle of fish.

When I went to Brazil last June I did not expect to see Australia at the Rio final (although there were a few minutes against Holland when getting out of the toughest group in the Cup did not seem impossible).

But please guys. This is home turf. We all expect to see you in Sydney. In the final. Winning.

Go Socceroos!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Je suis Charlie

Photograph: Marc Piasecki/Getty Images

Photograph: Thibault Camus/AP

Nothing more I can say.

Football daft

The Asian Cup starts here on Friday.  I've bought tickets for six group games in the nation's capital then three others in Sydney.  Football daft it would seem.

Naff video but the competition should be fun.

I’m going to the first of my 6 games being played in Canberra on Saturday – South Korea v Oman, which is not quite Argentina v Brazil but it’s still international football.  I’ve got tickets for the Quarters, Semi and Final as well but they’re up in Sydney at the end of the month.   

My highlight is looking forward to the Palestinian team play Iraq in two weeks’ time. Five of the Palestine team were not allowed to travel.  Maybe some ‘war on terror’ dickhead thought they’d suicide bomb the goalie.  I saw players interviewed by Guardian Online (here) at the Palestinian Social Club in Sydney.  It’s the first official tournament a Palestinian team has played in and the players are saying, ‘yes we’re here for our country and the people and we are proud.  But we also just want to play football.’  The world over.  A bunch of lads just want to kick a football around a pitch.

That's a lot of melon for two people

Cat with melon - getting to know one another

That, I thought, when I saw Spike approach our car parked outside the supermarket, is a big melon.  It seemed to weigh her down, as an obdurate child who did not want to leave the chocolate aisle might weigh down a mother forced to carry her reluctant four year old off the premises.

Since I first set eyes on the monster melon, however, I have been contemplating the many and varied ways it will be incorporated into our diet over the next few months ... melon juice (obviously), fruit salad with extra melon, melon on toast, deep fried melon (in honour of my Scottish culinary roots ... but even that may be a deep frier too far), melon au gratin ...

No, I don't think so either.

As for Thistle - well, she's in charge of everything so the melon (having been scrutinised carefully) was deemed to be a) not an immediate threat, b) not edible (if you're a cat with a discerning palate) and c) not really that interesting, not even as a plaything.

You lost what ...?

I'm in the middle of writing a letter to my good friend Martin Currie in Edinburgh, whose birthday it is next Monday.  I hope the missive reaches him in time. I have a tendency to ramble.  

I don't propely know what prompted the recollection below but these things do happen when you're around Martin.  Except maybe he wasn't even there.  It's simply the sort of bizarre occurence that you stumble across in any city from time to time.  So I wrote this to my mate Martin who I love dearly and miss a great deal ...

South Clerk Street, Edinburgh

Here’s a thing about South Clerk Street while I’m on the subject.  Maybe you were with me when this happened because I can’t think of any other reason to go into a pub on South Clerk Street – it was across the road from where the ABC Cinema used to be or was it the Odeon?

There was time to kill because the movie wasn’t starting for a while.  Whoever it was, we went for a drink in the pub.  Shortly after we got settled at our tables a moderately anxious looking man entered the rather deserted pub and started hunting – not quite frantically – for something he had lost.  He checked every chair, table and down the back of the red PVC (I doubt it was leather) benches running along the walls.  He clearly had no success. Running out of options he approached our little group then spoke in a quiet, secretive voice; as if was looking to buy or sell Class A drugs.

"Sorry to bother you”, he said.  “You haven’t seen a snake anywhere, have you?”

One of us said “a snake?” feigning composure, as if it was the most natural question in the world.

Another asked, “What kind was it?”

I like to dwell on the underlying assumptions of that question; as if maybe we had indeed seen a snake wandering around the pub or enjoying half a pint and a cigarette quietly in a corner, disturbing no one and we wanted to be sure the guy searching for his lost snake was genuinely connected to and could correctly identify the particular snake with which we’d been discussing the weekend’s football not half an hour before.  Or maybe we thought there might have been more than one snake in the pub – different types - and we wanted to make sure we returned the correct species to its owner.

Anyway, he said it was a” wee python”.

I’m sure he said it was a python and that it must have slipped out the carrier bag he’d brought with him into the pub.  He held up the empty pollie bag to show us.  In his mind it may have been some kind of proof.  Then he said “it must be somewhere” before heading back out the door.  I think we looked nervously around the pub, sipped our drinks casually – maybe a wee bit too casually in case any one of us thought the others suspected we were more than mildly hesitant about sitting in a pub that might have pythons of any size slithering around the furniture – then we decided it was time to drink up and make our way – early or not - to the cinema.